


Hurt Me Soul

by starrdust411



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Accidental Baby Acquisition, Angst, Domestic, Drama, Established Relationship, Kid Fic, M/M, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Trauma
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-15
Updated: 2017-11-06
Packaged: 2018-08-08 23:58:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7778683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starrdust411/pseuds/starrdust411
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“This is…”</p><p>“Complicated,” Sam sighed, running a hand over his face wearily. “And a lot to think about.”</p><p>Steve nodded because it would be so much easier to have this discussion if the boy wasn’t sitting in their living room right now. </p><p>(SamSteve Week - Day 4: Kid Fic)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The boy’s body was prone when he pulled him out of the wreckage. His skin was caked in dirt, but beneath the grime it was clear that his skin had gone pale as his limbs dangled at his sides and his mouth hung open wordlessly. He was small, frail, and light as a feather in his arms. It reminded Steve of the time he had come across a baby bird laying in the grass after it had fallen out of the nest: tiny and feeble and heartbreaking.

He was used to seeing death, but dead children… his stomach coiled at the thought. Despite everything going on around them he took a moment to lay the boy’s body down on the ground, the only clear patch of grass he could find and quickly inspected him. The boy wasn’t breathing, but there were no puncture marks on his body or broken limbs or clear injuries other than the nasty looking bite on the back of his hand. Many of the other passengers had had a similar bite somewhere on their bodies, some were littered with them, but this one wasn’t as inflamed and the boy’s skin hadn’t turned ashen or green the way the others had. He took a chance and pressed his ear to the child’s chest and found a heartbeat, faint but strong enough.

“Is he awake?”

Steve didn’t bother to look towards Sam, instead choosing to gently tap the boy’s cheek and give him a quick shake to check for awareness. “No,” he said when there was no response. Sam was already crouching beside him and Steve was quick to move out of the way. “But there’s a heartbeat. A faint one.”

Sam didn’t need further instruction for him get to work on the boy’s prone figure. He gently tilted the boy’s head back and began pressing the heel of his palm to the child’s chest. Steve watched as he steadily pressed down on his breastbone thirty times, counting each beat under his breath, before pinching the boy’s nose shut and closing his lips over the child’s mouth in order to fill his lungs.

The paramedics had arrived, the fire department was on the scene, and the NYPD was in the area keeping civilians at bay in order for the rescue team to work. This wasn’t an Avengers emergency, because there weren’t really any Avengers anymore. It was just dumb luck that Steve and Sam had been nearby, but it didn’t seem to matter since everything was over now. The train had derailed after something had attacked and it was hard to say just what that something was. The passengers on the rear cars were fine, jostled and battered, but they would live. It was the first four train cars that had gotten the worst of it. Most of the passengers had died on impact or from what appeared to be some sort of infection; those who were just injured seemed to be reacting badly to whatever had done this. And then there was this little boy.

Sam was pressing into his chest again for another thirty compression set. The child was so small, maybe three or four years old, and he had been the last body Steve had found after pulling out dozens of others and he simply couldn’t stand to see one more corpse, especially one so young.

“C’mon kid,” Sam grunted before pinching the boy’s nose and bending forward to help him breathe again. Steve felt his own breathing still as he watched Sam’s cheeks puff as he filled the boy’s lungs. “C’mon buddy. Stick with us.”

Sam gave his chest another ten firm pounds before the boy’s mouth flew open and a fit of coughs erupted from his lips. Color quickly returned to his features as a mixture of spit and vomit fell from his mouth. Steve felt the tension in him ease as Sam carefully helped the boy to sit up right, gently patting his back as thick tears began to run down his cheeks. “You’re okay, buddy,” Sam soothed. “You’re good now.”

The paramedics came their way and loaded up the boy along with the rest of the survivors and took him to the nearest hospital. Steve wanted to go with him and make sure he was okay, wanted to know exactly how many people had made it out alive and how many were expected to pull through, but that was need to no information and he wasn’t exactly Captain America anymore. 

He looked down at himself and stared at the dirt and blood that had soaked into his jeans and felt the sweat and grim caking his t-shirt. They weren’t exactly supposed to be here doing this sort of thing, but when they had come across the wreck Steve had run head first to do what came naturally to him. Now everything was winding down and if they stuck around any longer they’d be questioned by the police and face a whole world of trouble. 

Sam placed a hand to his side and Steve already knew what that meant. They walked briskly and managed to get away fairly easily thanks to all the confusion. When they got home they would peel off their clothes and wash away the evidence of what they’d done today. They would lie down in bed and close their eyes and do their best to forget. It was over now.

*

The knock on the front door was sudden and sharp. It was Sunday afternoon and Sam had declared Sundays their “chill out day,” meaning that neither of them was supposed to travel far from the orbit of the couch unless it was to grab food or use the bathroom. Sundays also sometimes meant family dinners, but even Sam’s mother was taking some “me time” after a particularly grueling week at her office.

“You expecting a delivery?” Steve asked as he marked off his book in preparation to stand.

Sam shook his head and motioned for Steve to stay put. “Nope,” he said before standing and heading towards the door. 

Steve watched him go, leaning back into the couch cushions in order to get a better look at the doorway. He watched as Sam’s back stiffened in surprise as he swung the door open to reveal Nick Fury standing out in the hallway of their apartment building and Steve was instantly on his feet. “Oh damn,” Sam breathed as he stepped back and allowed Fury inside. “What happened?”

“Nice to see you too, Wilson,” Fury greeted as he strode inside. He turned towards Steve and gave him a cordial nod in greeting. “Captain Rogers.”

“What’s going on?” Steve asked when he spotted Natasha standing just a few paces behind Fury. His body tensed when his eyes landed on the little boy held in her arms and he recognized him as the child from the train crash three weeks ago. “What happened?”

“Sorry to interrupt your lazy Sunday,” Natasha said calmly as she shifted the toddler carefully in her arms. His head was resting comfortably on her shoulder, his little limbs dangling at his side as his eyes blinked lazily at the ground. He looked smaller than Steve remembered him. He was cleaned up and the small cuts on his body were all healed. Even the strange bite on his hand was completely gone. “We have a situation.”

“We?” Steve echoed as he looked at the three of them. “How did…?”

“This is Miles Morales,” Fury began evenly as he waved a hand towards the little boy dozing in Natasha’s arms. “You might remember him from the unauthorized bit of Avenging you two did last month.” Sam tensed and Steve shifted, but neither of them said anything as they waited for Fury to continue speaking. “You saved his life, but his parents weren’t quite so lucky.”

Something cold and heavy settled into the pit of Steve’s stomach at that and he wasn’t surprised to feel Sam’s hand land on his shoulder. “And I’m sure that’s not the situation,” Sam concluded.

Fury’s lips pressed together as a small breath escaped from his nose. “I think we’d better have a seat.”

They moved stiffly into the living room where Natasha and Fury sat on the couch while Sam and Steve grabbed a few chairs from the dinner table and sat across from them. Natasha had shifted Miles so that his legs were spread across her lap, but allowed his head to continue leaning on her chest. His eyes were open, half lidded, but they seemed watery as if he were seconds from crying. Natasha must have sensed this because she gave his little arm a tender rub.

“You probably remember the mark on Miles’s hand,” Natasha began, her fingers brushing against the smooth patch of skin along the back of his hand that now held little more than a faint scar. “That mark was from a spider bite. It was an experiment we traced back to Oscorp. Apparently someone on the train had been trying to smuggle a batch of genetically enhanced spiders to one of Oscorp’s competitors, but had accidentally unleashed them on the train causing the crash.”

Steve fought against the urge to wince at Natasha’s words. He remembered how many people he had seen sporting a similar bite on their bodies, how they had either fallen ill or died seemingly instantly. “What about the other survivors?” Steve asked, dreading the answer. “Miles wasn’t the only one to get bit.”

“Unfortunately, as of today, Miles is the only one who survived his encounter with the Oscorp experiment,” Fury informed them soberly. “He also hasn’t suffered any negative reactions beyond a slight fever that broke some weeks ago.”

“And how do we factor into all of this?” Sam asked hesitantly and Steve could tell from his stiff posture that he already knew what direction the conversation would be taking.

“As of right now, no negative reactions have surfaced due to the spider bite, but we still need to monitor Miles in case something does occur,” Fury explained. “Miles also has no immediate family in the area and we reasoned that having a pair of fairly familiar faces taking care of the kid for a few days might be easier on him than sticking him with a bunch of strangers in a lab.”

His insides instantly grew cold at the image of Miles being treated like some sort of guinea pig, locked away in a lab where a pack of faceless doctors in lab coats poked and prodded at him. He had some familiarity with that, recalling how the scientist in charge of Operation Rebirth had taken dozens of vials of blood from his vines, seemingly indifferent to the fact that Steve’s head was still swirling to process his own body’s drastic change or Erskine’s sudden death. That had only been for a few hours out of one day, for Miles it could be months, years, maybe even a lifetime.

“Only a few days though?” Sam put in skeptically. “What happens if he’s given the all clear after that?”

Fury responded with a shrug that was meant to come off as casual, but it was difficult for anything a six foot tall man wearing an eye patch and a black trench coat in late August did to look casual. “If he’s a normal healthy baby, then there’s nothing for SHIELD to do, but step aside and let the right people get involved with finding him a new home.” 

“And if something does show up?”

Fury stared at them, calm and unblinking, and Steve knew exactly what that meant. “Then this becomes something that SHIELD will have to handle and therefore a need to know operation.”

“I think it’s pretty obvious that Sam and I are retired,” he put in, wishing that he could do a better job to keep the weariness out of his tone. “We were forced out of this whole world almost a year ago.”

“Yet somehow that didn’t stop you from going down to that train wreck and doing a job you weren’t legally authorized to start,” Fury countered evenly. “And I think I’m pretty safe in assuming that you, Captain, are not the sort of man to leave a job half done. So I’m just here asking you to finish what you started.”

Try as he might, Steve couldn’t quite find it in himself to argue with that logic and were this a situation that only involved him he knew exactly what he would do. Yet this wasn’t just something being pushed on him. 

He glanced over at Sam just as Sam sighed and turned towards him. He could see the same conflict shining in his eyes that was likely reflected in his own and knew that neither of them had an answer to give.

“Give us a minute,” Sam sighed as he stood from his seat. 

Steve was on his feet before Sam could even motion for him to get up and instantly followed him into the rear of the apartment towards their bedroom. Sam pushed the door shut and Steve instantly let out the massive groan that had been building deep in his chest since Fury and Natasha had walked through their door. “This is…”

“Complicated,” Sam sighed, running a hand over his face wearily. “And… _a lot_ to think about.”

He nodded because it would be so much easier to have this discussion if Miles wasn’t sitting in their living room right now. “If it’s just for a few days…” he began, but Sam was already shaking his head.

“Even if it is just a few days, it’s going to be a twenty-four seven type of deal,” Sam countered. “Plus if something did happen… if Miles does have radioactive spider blood or whatever…” Again he stopped as shook his head. “It’s a lot.”

“I know,” Steve reasoned, because he did know. He did understand that this was a lot to just drop on their laps, to throw such a massive curve ball into their lives when they were just starting to rebuild after everything that had happened. It didn’t seem right or fair, yet there was a kid who was little more than a baby sitting in their living room waiting for them to decide what to do with his life. 

Sam gave out a small puff of breath and reached for his hand and gave it slight squeeze. It was only then that Steve realized how unsteady he had felt until Sam’s touch grounded him. In that instant they both knew exactly what they needed to do.

They walked back into the living room where Fury and Natasha were still waiting for them. The two were silent and Steve wondered if they had said anything to one another while he and Sam had stepped out. He had a feeling that the two had the sort of relationship where words weren’t needed, but even with that thought it still made their equally stiff posture seem strange.

“What do we need to do?” Steve asked.

“Doctor Cho is scheduled to fly in a week from today,” Fury informed them as he got to his feet and pulled out a small card from the folds of his clothes. “Bring him to this address Monday morning at 8AM sharp. There’ll be some testing and the results will come in within a week tops.”

“So we take care of him for two weeks and then what?”

Fury gave another shrug and it was clear from the stony expression on his face that this was all the answer they would be given. He turned towards Natasha and gave her a quick nod before heading out the door.

Natasha stood as soon as Fury was out of sight and placed Miles down on the couch. Miles appeared more awake now, but the sad distant expression hadn’t left his face. Steve had expected Natasha to follow Fury out into the hall, but was mildly surprised when Natasha instead crouched down in front of Miles and ran a hand over his short black coils. “Alright kiddo,” she began evenly. “This is what we talked about. I’m leaving you with Sam and Steve. You remember them from the train, right?”

Miles lifted his head and glanced over her shoulder to study them carefully. He turned back to Natasha and gave her a sad nod which she rewarded with a quick squeeze of his arm. 

“They’re gonna take good care of you,” she promised. “And I’m gonna be back in a few weeks to check up on you.”

“Promise?” Miles asked in a voice barely above a whisper. 

She smiled and raised her hand in order to hook their pinkies together. “Promise.”

Natasha stood and turned towards them, her posture shifting easily back to normal. “He like Legos,” she told them in a low tone as they walked towards the front door. “And his mom was Puerto Rican, so he likes plantains, the sweet kind but he’ll also eat them fried, and arroz con gandules.”

Steve nodded and accepted this, not bothering to ask why she knew this information or how she had learned any of it. “How old is he?” he asked because the question had been on his mind for some time.

“Three,” she told him. “Just had a birthday a few months ago.”

“You know,” Sam began conversationally. “I’m pretty sure you’re supposed to be out of this game too.”

Natasha smiled, a real sincere smile, and opened the front door. “True, but that doesn’t mean I’m not willing to do a favor for some friends from time to time. Have fun.”


	2. Chapter 2

After Fury and Natasha left they were suddenly hit with the overwhelming weight of the situation. They had a kid. There was a three year old boy sitting in their living room and they were absolutely unprepared. Their Brooklyn apartment – tiny and under furnished as it had been for the past three months since they had moved in – was not baby proof or child friendly in any sense.

Miles was quiet and still for most of the day, even after Sam had turned on their television and switched it over to a children’s station before heading into the kitchen to see what he could fix Miles for dinner. He sat on their couch watching, but not really focusing on the screen in front of him. Steve had asked him if he were hungry, thirsty, or tired, but Miles didn’t respond much beyond a weak shake of his head. The sadness radiating off of Miles was powerful and Steve had to wonder just how much of the situation the toddler was able to grasp.

There were no pigeon peas or rice for gandules and no plantains to bake or fry, but Steve made a point of writing those things on the grocery list for next time. Instead Sam had dug out a couple of hot dogs from the freezer which he had cooked up and sliced into nice little half circled bits before offering them to Miles. Miles ate silently and half heartedly, dunking his little hot dog pieces into the squirt of ketchup in the corner of his plate. He ate less than half of his food before deciding that he was done and neither Sam nor Steve wanted to force him into eating anymore than he wanted.

They made out the couch for Miles to sleep on and kept the light above the stove on in the kitchen just in case he was afraid of the dark. They slept with their bedroom door open in order to listen for any sounds that might drift their way in the middle of the night.

“I should cancel my sessions tomorrow,” Sam whispered as he sat on the foot of the bed waiting for Steve to finish up in the bathroom. 

Steve shook his head as he switched the faucet off. “No,” he told him instantly as he wiped his hands and flicked off the bathroom lights. “No, you should go in. They need you down there.”

“He just got here,” Sam sighed, rubbing his eyes with the heel of his palm. “I don’t want to throw things off too much.”

“You’re not gonna be gone the whole day,” Steve reasoned as his gaze unconsciously turned towards the door. He didn’t have a good view of Miles since the hall was still fairly dark and the back of the couch kept him out of sight, but that didn’t stop him from glancing his way every now and again. “Besides, I’ll be here. It’ll be fine.”

He was surprised by how confident he was able to sound since the truth of the matter was that Steve had absolutely no experience with children and was silently second guessing this decision.

“I’m gonna text Sarah,” Sam told him. His phone was already out and his thumbs were flying across the screen. Sam’s sister lived in the same borough and was always available to drop by at the drop of a hat, even if she did have two kids under seven, a full time job, and a master’s degree she was inching her way towards. “She saved all her old baby stuff. She’ll probably be able to lend us something.”

“What are you gonna tell her?”

Sam shook his head, but said nothing as he hit the send button on his screen.

*

Sarah showed up at ten thirty even though she had told Sam she would swing by around eleven. Her two boys, Jody and Paulie, weren’t with her, having been dropped off at school earlier that morning and Sarah had just enough time before her own classes started to drop off all the toddler stuff her boys had out grown.

Miles didn’t respond much to Sarah, but he did accept the box of second hand Lego blocks she had given him and got to work constructing a pole or a tower in the living room.

“He’s been through a lot, hasn’t he?” Sarah said sadly, her voice low and dripping with worry as she sorted through the old clothes with Steve.

Steve wasn’t sure what Sam had told his sister, but he assumed it was likely the truth because Sam had a hard time lying to his family. Steve just nodded and gave her a soft yeah, as he inspected the package of Pull Ups Sarah had brought with her. 

“I know he’s three, but they all have accidents,” she said knowingly. “Next time you go shopping, be sure to load up on detergent and scotch guard, because there will be stains and spills _everywhere_.”

“I don’t know if Sam told you…” Steve began, but was instantly cut off with a wave of Sarah’s hand that sent the bangles on her wrist jingling.

“Sammy told me enough,” she assured him. She took out a pair of blue and white striped pajamas and flipped them over. There was a large green stain that looked as if it had been scrubbed and rinsed a dozen times decorating the front just below the snap buttons. Sarah frowned and put the pajamas away with an irritated sigh. “He’s good with kids so I’m sure you’ll be fine.”

Steve nodded, but didn’t know if he could really believe that. He knew that Sam had enough experience with babies and trauma to help Miles get through the next two weeks, but Steve was lacking in every way imaginable. And with Sam having counseling and group sessions scheduled throughout the week it would likely mean he would end up as the one to spend the majority of the day with Miles. It was something that he had considered when they initially agreed to take the boy in, but the reality of it had only really set in when Sam had left that morning and Steve found himself alone with Miles, waiting until Sarah showed up with the supplies. It was only a matter of minutes before Sarah had to run off and then Steve would be stuck for the next five hours waiting for Sam to come back. He wasn’t sure how comfortable he would be spending the next few days like this.

The weight of Sarah’s hand on his arm pulled Steve out of his musing. He looked at her face, her brown eyes filled with sympathy and understanding, and Steve had to wonder if being so in tuned to other people’s emotions was something that ran in the Wilson family. “Hey, you’re going to do just fine,” Sarah told him patiently, confirming his suspicions that she had read him like a book. “Besides, you know I’m just a phone call away.”

Steve nodded, doing his best to force out the uneasy feelings brewing in his gut. “You’re right. Besides, it’s only for a few weeks.”

Sarah responded to his comment with a slow nod and a look that could easily be classified as skeptical.

*

When Sam came back to the apartment he made sure to have all the ingredients he needed to make Miles gandules. The two of them did their best not to make their excitement too obvious when Sam pushed the plate in front of Miles. Unfortunately they were only met with disappointment when Miles responded to the dish with his usual quiet hesitance.

“I like mommy’s better,” Miles told them meekly when Steve asked him how it tasted. 

Steve gave Sam’s arm a comforting pat and advised him not to take it personally.

*

Miles slept through the night and played with his Legos during the day. He napped when he was told and ate most of the food that they gave him. Yet he didn’t speak much or make eye contact and Sam was starting to wonder if it was a result of lingering shock from the accident or possible autism that was causing his behavior.

They did their best to keep Miles entertained during the day with coloring books and educational activity sets that Sam picked up at the grocery store. Miles favored red when he colored and did a decent enough of a job at following the dotted lines when tracing letters or numbers in the activity set which seemed to put him within the normal grouping in terms of development for his age. All the same, Miles had a tendency to shy away from crowds, staying near Steve’s side at the park, or clinging to Sam’s hand at the store. Sarah had offered to bring her boys over to give Miles an opportunity to be near kids his own age, but Sam had politely declined, suggesting that they give him another few days or so to come around.

By the end of the first week they were making no progress in gauging how Miles was adjusting to their current living arrangements and it was starting to wear into them. 

“The kid’s probably got family out there who’re worried sick about him,” Sam mused one night, his words slightly muffled by the pillow pressed against his cheek. Their door was cracked open, just enough for the light in the hall to spill in, but Sam still kept his words low as he spoke even if Miles was probably already sound asleep and unlikely to hear him. “Probably an aunt or uncle going outta their mind trying to find him. It’s not right for us to keep him here like this.” 

Steve nodded as best as he could while lying down. He reached out for Sam’s hand beneath the sheets and laced their fingers together. “It’s just another week,” Steve whispered to him, giving their linked hands a slight squeeze. “After that, we’ll do what we can to help him get back to his family.”

Sam shifted closer to Steve before tightening his grip on their joined hands. “I hope it’s that simple.”

*

“When’s mommy coming?” 

The question came so suddenly that Steve was ashamed to admit that he jumped a bit in surprise before turning to look towards Sam for guidance. Sam was just as stunned as he was, having been shocked still as he gazed worriedly at Miles.

They had just finished their Sunday breakfast and were in the middle of scrubbing and drying the last of the dishes when Miles had entered the kitchen and cornered them. Steve had been wondering for some time if Miles knew or understood that his parents were gone and now he was faced with the uncomfortable answer.

Sam put aside the plate he had been drying and crouched down until he was closer to Miles’s level. Steve dried off his hands and turned to rest his hip against the kitchen counter, doing his best to force himself to stay calm. “Your mommy’s not coming to get you buddy,” Sam said evenly. “She’s not here.”

“Is daddy coming?” Miles asked and suddenly the air in the room felt that much thicker.

Sam was good with children and had been working with traumatized vets for years, but this was uncharted territory. Explaining the concept of death to a child who was still learning his letters wasn’t exactly something that Sam had been trained to handle. “Your mom and dad… they didn’t make it out of the train. They’re in heaven now. Do you know what heaven is, Miles?”

“Where God lives,” he answered softly.

Sam nodded. “That’s right. Where God lives.”

“Are they coming back?”

Sam stiffened as if he had been struck by the question and Steve figured that this was as good of a time as any to step in. He placed a supportive hand to Sam’s shoulder as he eased himself down beside him in order t give Miles a soft smile. “I’m afraid they can’t Miles,” he told him evenly. “You see, once you go to heaven, you can’t come back. But I promise you, your mom and dad are up there watching over you.”

It didn’t take long for Miles’s little lower lip to wobble as fat tears welled up in his eyes. He sniffed, his fists clenching down at the hem of his shirt as the tears began to fall across his cheeks. “I want them here,” Miles sobbed as Sam gently pulled him close, wrapping his arms tight around the boy’s narrow frame as Steve pressed his free hand against the back of his head, brushing his soft curls with the pad of his thumb.

“I know buddy and it’s okay,” Sam whispered.

“It’s okay to be sad and it’s okay to miss them,” Steve assured. “We never stop missing the people who leave us.”

They let Miles cry until he had tired himself out from his own tears. Eventually Sam’s knees began to feel stiff so they moved over to the living room and sat back on the couch. Miles nodded off sitting in Sam’s lap, his head resting against Sam’s chest and his legs dangling across Steve’s legs. 

Steve grabbed a throw blanket and spread it across the three of them. It felt like hours that they sat in silence in the living room before he lifted his eyes and looked to Sam. He wasn’t surprised to see the same mixed up feelings reflected in his eyes that he felt churning inside of him.

They still had another week like this, the three of them living under one roof and getting by as best as they could; another week of them comforting Miles, but still trying to keep him at arm’s length. After that was a mystery, but Steve had a feeling that neither of them would be prepared for it.


	3. Chapter 3

Monday morning came far too quickly as they made their preparations to take Miles in for his exam with Dr. Cho. Steve had Googled the address on the business card Fury had given him the night before their appointment and found that they would be heading to a facility upstate to meet with Cho. It was in Albany and therefore far enough from the old/new Avengers compound to make Steve feel a bit more comfortable.

Not that any of this made Steve feel comfortable. They were still taking a traumatized three year old boy just coming to terms with the loss of his family to a government building to be poked and prodded by scientists. His stomach coiled as he picked out clothes for Miles to wear while Sam helped the toddler wash up in the bathroom. 

“I don’t feel good about this,” Sam had whispered to him just moments ago. “It just feels so… cold.”

Steve sighed as he grabbed the old laptop bag they had been using to carry around things for Miles and began gently tucking in an extra change of clothes between the pack of baby wipes and the Pull Ups that had been stuffed inside in case of an emergency. This past week had been rough from start to finish and this appointment just signified that they had reached the half way point, but Steve was having a difficult time trying to process how he felt about that. He knew that he should have been relieved at the prospect of life returning to its normal childless pattern, but he simply couldn’t. All he could do was contemplate what would happen to Miles after the results came back. 

The bathroom door opened and Sam’s arm slipped out between the juncture, waiting expectantly for Steve to hand him the clothes. Steve quickly gave him the shorts and t-shirt that he had selected before grabbing the laptop bag and heading into the kitchen so he could fill it with snacks. 

Sam had made sure to keep his schedule clear for today and even if Steve had initially advised against it, he was glad to have someone there to talk to and share the long drive. Steve had just managed to safely squeeze in a few boxes of juice and a couple of bags of cereal and dried fruit that Miles liked just as Sam and Miles emerged from the other end of the apartment. Miles was his usual quiet self as he stood silently by Sam’s side, his little hand held snuggly in Sam’s palm.

“All set,” Sam announced, his voice holding all the enthusiasm he could possibly muster at five in the morning. “You ready to hit the road?”

“Just about,” Steve said as he grabbed a few bagels out of the refrigerator. “Just gotta finish our breakfast first.”

“Better make those bagels to-go,” Sam half spoke half yawned as he made his way over to the coffee pot. He let Miles’s hand slip away from his own in order to grab a set of travel mugs from the back of the cupboard. “We’re already running late and traffic is going to be a nightmare.”

Steve nodded even as he stuffed the bagels into the toaster slots and grabbed a few zip-lock bags from the cupboard as they cooked. He looked down when he felt a slight tug at his pants and saw Miles clutching at the folds of his jeans. 

“Are we going to visit Nana?” Miles asked innocently.

Steve did his best to smile as he gave the top of Miles’s head a fond pat. “No, buddy. We’re going to take you to see a doctor.”

“A doctor?” Miles asked, his eyes widening and his little face turning pale at the words. “Am I gonna get a shot?”

Steve blanched as Sam shot him a withering look that clearly said Steve should have known better than to say the “D” word. “Um, well,” he stammered, but the tears were already welling in Miles’s brown eyes even as he scrambled for some way to cover his tracks. 

“Hey, buddy, it’s gonna be alright,” Sam said as he scooped Miles up into his arms. “You keep crying like that and you won’t get any ice cream.”

Miles sniffed, sloppily wiping the tears that had managed to slip out with the back of his hands. “Ice cream?”

“Yeah bud! Everybody knows that only brave kids get ice cream after they see the doctor and you’re a brave kid, right?” Miles answered with a pouty lip and a hesitant nod that signified that he was willing to cooperate so long as he got his reward. “That’s what I thought,” Sam grinned as he gave his back a reassuring pat before setting him back down on the ground.

Steve frowned as the bagels chose that moment to pop out of the toaster. “So now we’re bribing him with sweets?” he muttered disapprovingly as he plated the bagels in order to allow them to cool before smothering them with cream cheese. “It’s nowhere near noon.” 

“Hey, if you want to spend the next two and a half hours stuck in car with a crying toddler, then be my guest,” Sam shot back and Steve couldn’t really find it in himself to come up with a decent rebuttal.

*  
They made it to the Albany facility in three hours, which was fairly decent considering the amount of traffic they had run into along the way. The building was cold and clean and reminded Steve a bit too much of the old SHIELD headquarters in DC.

The whole situation left him with a sense of unease that didn’t dispel even when they had met with Dr. Cho. Steve had been hoping that seeing a familiar face would help to set his mind at ease, but the dread that coiled up in the pit of his stomach failed to dissipate upon seeing Cho laying out her instruments in preparation to draw blood from Miles.

“So what exactly are we looking for with these tests?” Sam asked, putting to words the thoughts that had been swirling in Steve’s head. 

“Any signs of possible illness or mutation,” Cho said distantly as she slipped a pair of gloves onto her hands. The whole room smelled like antiseptic and tongue depressors and it made his skin crawl. “Oscorp wasn’t looking to make a weapon with their experiment, but given the state of the victims on the train that’s exactly what they got. The boy, Miles?, his blood might hold some clue as to what exactly happened.”

Miles was in tears as soon as Cho began rolling up his sleeve to swab a patch of skin. To the doctor’s credit she tried her best to be reassuring and spoke in soothing tones as she cleaned the area, but Miles didn’t seem interested in listening. He buried his face in Steve’s chest and soon the entire front of his shirt was completely soaked.

“Hey buddy, it’s okay,” Steve whispered as he ran a hand down Miles’s little back as Sam cradled the back of his head. “It’s okay. You’re a brave boy remember?”

Cho looked positively guilt ridden as she muttered a soft “Sorry,” before plunging the needle in. Steve had a feeling Miles wouldn’t be the only one needing ice cream by the end of the day.

*

It was just past noon by the time they made it back to Brooklyn and Sam made sure to make good on his promise by stopping at an ice cream parlor a few blocks from their building and bought Miles a scoop. It was one of those nostalgic fifties themed places that had gotten popular during the time Steve was in the ice. He could never wrap his head around those places. It was strange enough when people were nostalgic for his time when the forties still felt like just yesterday, but nostalgia for a period he had never lived through and barely knew about made him feel off.

Miles picked out a bright blue ice cream with chunks of chocolate chip cookie dough mixed in and asked for rainbow sprinkles on top. Sam order a scope of rocky road for himself, but Steve decided against getting anything when he saw how large their portions were. He had a feeling he’d be the one to help Miles finish off his blue sugar bomb once he couldn’t stomach anymore.

They sat outside and enjoyed the warm early September air and listened to the quirky music the exterior speakers pumped out. Miles seemed content as he focused on eating every last drop of his ice cream and Steve smiled at the way his lips were starting to turn blue from the food coloring.

“This is a no win scenario for him,” Sam began in a low, conspiring tone, a clear indication that he was trying not to let Miles over hear him. Not that there was much chance of that. Miles didn’t seem like the type of kid to ease drop, but it was always best not to assume he wasn’t listening just because it looked that way.

“How do you figure?” Steve asked as he shifted against the metal chair in order to slide closer to Sam’s side.

“Either they find something and take him in for studying or they find nothing and take him in,” he went on. “Think about it. If he is healthy after an attack by a spider that literally killed dozens of people then SHIELD is gonna want to know why.” He shook his head and pushed at the softening chocolate with the back of his spoon. “He’s never going home after this.”

Steve felt his stomach drop to his feet at Sam’s words. The air suddenly became thick and hot as he watched the foot traffic around the parlor. Somewhere out there Miles’s real family was saying a prayer or lighting a candle for him, and instead of being safe at home with them, Miles was stuck with two men who were little more than strangers. “We really should’ve seen it coming.”

“There’s no doubt Fury had to pull some shady stunt to get him outta that hospital in the first place. Most likely the kind of stunt you pull when you take a kid and don’t intend to give him back.”

“So we’re basically accessories to a kidnapping,” Steve whispered, glancing over his shoulder just to make certain no one was listening in on their conversation.

“Government abduction,” Sam clarified grimly. His mouth twisted as he allowed the plastic spoon to slip from his fingers. “It sounds like something you’d read about in those grocery tabloids.”

Overhead the clouds shifted eclipsing the sun for just a moment as a gust of wind swept over them and Steve actually felt himself shivering. A part of him reasoned that they were lucky Miles had ended up in their care instead of with someone who wouldn’t have his best interests in mind, yet the bigger issue was that they had already taken Miles in for the blood work which meant that in a few days his fate would be out of their hands.

The brush of finger tips against the bare skin along his side caught Steve off guard and he had to fight against the urge to leap to his feet. He looked down and saw that Sam’s right hand was pressed against his side, the tips of his fingers disappearing at the knuckle beneath the fabric of his shirt. 

“What happened to your clothes?” Sam asked as he pulled back just enough to finger at the frayed edges of fabric surrounding what appeared to be a massive hole. “Isn’t this shirt brand new?”

Steve frowned and grabbed at the hem of his shirt, the action causing the fabric to roll up and reveal small bruises that were already starting to heal littering his skin near where the hole had been torn. He grasped at his other side and felt the same thing, small bruises hidden beneath a fresh tear. His mind kept circling back to grabbing the t-shirt out of the draw that morning and how there hadn’t been so much as a lose thread to be found.

“Must’ve snagged on something,” Steve found himself muttering distantly, but the explanation didn’t sound convincing even in his own ears.

*

Natasha picked up the phone on the third ring when he called and the flat tone in her voice gave Steve the feeling she had been anticipating his call. “How long would it take you to head back to Brooklyn?”

“Not long,” she said easily. “What do you need?”

“A favor,” he sighed as he ran a hand over his bicep. “One that I can’t really discuss over the phone.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” she assured him before hanging up the phone.

The next morning Natasha arrived at their door with a small box filled with cookies from a local bakery for Miles. A part of Steve wondered when the parade of sweets would end, but decided that he was just as guilty as the others since he allowed Miles to have an M&Ms coated cookie nearly the size of his head even though he had just finished his breakfast less than an hour ago.

Steve and Natasha went to the kitchen to talk as Miles sat in the living room watching Sesame Street. He took a moment to silently wish that Sam could be there for this meeting, but he actually had sessions scheduled today, ones that he just didn’t feel right dropping at the last minute, so it would be Steve’s job to listen and report back to him at the end of the day. Steve just hoped that Natasha would be able to help them without running the risk of possibly getting themselves tangled in a situation that was even murkier than the one they were already in.

“Do you think it would be possible to make Miles’s blood samples… disappear?”

Natasha didn’t look the least bit surprised by the question as she silently studied his face for a moment before grabbing a coffee mug out of the dish rack. “Having second thoughts about signing up for this mission?” Natasha asked as she went about pouring herself a cup of coffee from the freshly brewed pot. 

He bristled at her choice of words even though he knew there was no malice behind it. The truth of the matter was a part of Steve had been trying to look at taking care of Miles as nothing more than assignment to be completed. It was cold and distant, but it was better than the alternative of getting too attached to a child that wasn’t his own. He supposed that either way he would be in the wrong. 

“I’ve been having second thoughts from the start,” he admitted seeing no point in being anything but honest with Natasha. “This is more along the lines of third or fourth thoughts.” 

Steve shifted towards the doorway and glanced towards the living room. He could see the screen filling up with brightly colored numbers as a chorus of children cheerfully counted each one as they appeared. He could hear Miles’s voice softly counting with them, his fingers stuck between his lips as he sucked on the last bits of cookie crumbs from his finger tips. Steve felt his lips twitch with the desire to curl into a smile, but then he remembered just what he was discussing and found the smile dying before it could even be formed. 

“I know you don’t really work for SHIELD anymore,” Steve began as he turned back towards Natasha. “But do you have any idea what they’re planning to do with him? If it does come back that Miles has some sort of mutation… what then?”

Natasha didn’t meet his gaze as she added two spoons of sugar to her coffee before pouring in enough cream to turn the brew almost white. “Then they’ll train him to use them,” she told him without hesitation, stirring the coffee so smoothly that he never once heard the spoon clink against the sides. 

“For SHIELD,” he concluded wearily and felt his stomach drop when Natasha answered him with a stiff nod.

“He’ll be an asset.”

“And if he doesn’t have anything? If he’s just a healthy, normal little boy… Is anyone even looking for his family?”

This time Natasha did look at him, and even though her gaze was steady it still held a sadness that even an untrained eye would be able to detect. “Miles doesn’t have much family left, just one uncle currently serving ten years in a corrections facility upstate.”

“He mentioned a grandmother.”

“Dead,” Natasha said flatly. “His parents used to visit her grave every Sunday.”

Natasha took a sip of her coffee as Steve leaned back against the counter and processed this new information. His head felt heavy and light all at once so he decided to pour himself a cup of coffee just to give himself something to do. He grabbed a mug from the top shelf and grabbed the pot off of the craft, pouring nearly to the rim of the cup. 

“We still have to do something,” Steve concluded as he dumped half a teaspoon of sugar into his mug. 

“I wish you’d said something a week ago,” Natasha said ruefully as she took another sip from her own mug. “Everything’s already in motion now.”

“There still has to be a way,” he sighed as he watched the surface of his coffee ripple inside his mug.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do you know the phrase "life imitates art"? Well not long after I posted the second chapter of this story someone I loved was killed in a car accident. Then less than a week after that another person in my life died. Suddenly this little fanfic about a child dealing with death became too real and I couldn't write anymore. That was a little more than a year ago, but it still feels very surreal.
> 
> This chapter was still on my computer and I decided to revisit it. I make no promises that there will be more to the story, but this is just something to offer all those who were wondering what happened next.

**Author's Note:**

> I wasn't able to find any information on Rio Morales's nationality, so I just wrote her as Puerto Rican since that's what I am on my father's side.
> 
> I originally wanted to write this for SamSteve week Day 4, but it just didn't come out on time. I also didn't intend for this to be multi-part, but here it is.


End file.
